


Useless Talents

by thenakednymph



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: BAMF Lance, M/M, fight me, klance, lance is amazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:08:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22836064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thenakednymph/pseuds/thenakednymph
Summary: Lance has some "useless" talents that come in handy. Keith is impressed.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 25
Kudos: 776
Collections: Voltron Stars🌌





	Useless Talents

Pidge swears, pulling back from around the corner. 

“There’s two guards outside the door, we need a distraction.”

“Or to take them out quietly,” Keith says. 

Lance peeks around the corner at the guards, analyzing the situation before looking back down the T intersection. 

“I got this.”

“I said quietly,” Keith hisses. “Your bayard isn’t exactly silent.”

Lance looks at him steadily, holding his gaze for one long drawn out moment, heavy and serious. “Trust me.” 

He steps silently into the hall, sticking to the shadows until he’s on the other side, the guards none the wiser. Passing a hand over one of his thigh holsters a small curved rod, no longer than his palm manifests in his hand instead of his bayard. Lance closes his eyes, takes a slow breath and feeds a thread of energy into the rod. It snaps open into a bow and Lance peeks around the corner again, measuring the distance and heights of the two Galra outside the door. 

When he’s sure, he steps boldly out into the hall, a string of blazing blue quintessence forming along the bow. An arrow manifests as he draws it, aiming for the soldier furthest from him and looses the arrow. 

It flies fast and silent, taking the first Galran right through the head before doing the same to the other, the quintessence arrow vanishing once it exits the man’s skull. Both bodies slump to the floor and the light from the bow fades, collapsing in on itself once again. 

Pidge lifts their eyebrows slowly. “What the hell was that?”

“Altean war bow.” Lance lifts the rod before putting it away and pulling out his bayard instead. “Never misses.” 

Pidge blinks at him in surprise. “Huh.” They shake off their surprise, darting down the hall to the now unguarded door. 

Keith drifts closer as Hunk goes to help Pidge. 

“How did you-?” 

Lance shrugs. “It was in the armory of the training room. After some experimenting I just kind of figured it out.” 

Keith frowns at Lance’s thigh holster. “How does it work?”

Lance hides a smile, waving a hand over the holster and the little curved rod appears again. 

“It runs on quintessence. The bow is inert until you feed it a thread and then-” The bow snaps open. “From there the string manifests.” A brilliant blue string comes to life, connecting the two points of the recurve like lightning. 

Keith touches it curiously, rolling the energy between his fingers as they come to a stop beside the door. It’s warm but solid and lets out a thwang as he snaps it gently. 

“And the arrow?” 

“Same thing.” Lance lifts the bow, drawing back and an arrow manifests, the fletching touching his cheek as he touches his finger to the corner of his mouth. 

“Find your target,” he explains softly, “focus on where you want to strike...and loose.” He does but instead of surging forward the arrow dissipates. 

He lowers the bow. “As long as you’re aiming, you will hit your target. You can’t just fire in the complete opposite direction and still expect it to work, but that's basically it. There is a limit to how many times you can use it.”

Keith frowns. “What do you mean?” 

“The bow uses your own quintessence for ammunition,” Lance explains, showing more patience than Keith expected. “Every arrow drains your own well of energy.”

Keith looks between Lance and the bow. “What happens when you use too much?”

A knowing smile crosses Lance’s mouth as he helps Hunk drag the two bodies inside. “You pass out. I can get about twenty off before I start to get really dizzy. After that my vision fuzzes, my head starts to pound, my arms shake…” He rolls his hand through the air as if to say 'so on and so forth.'

“Eventually I blacked out. I think if I had to I could get off twenty-five.” He squints, staring off in thought. “I suppose if you were able to get off more than that it would eventually kill you.” 

He looks at the bow in his hands, expression sobering. “It’s a powerful but dangerous thing.” He looks at the two bodies on the floor and tries not to grimace. 

“I don’t know what’s standard, it probably changes from person to person. Someone else could probably get off double that depending on their quintessence.”

“Or a fraction of that,” Keith argues softly, not wanting Lance to undersell himself. His eyes find Lance’s before he looks to the bow again.

“I didn’t know you knew how to use a bow.” 

Lance shrugs. “Not sure I’m any good without the Altean technology-”

“Don’t listen to him Keith,” Hunk interrupts. “He’s just as good with a bow as he is with a firearm.”

Lance flushes. “I am not. If anything I’m average-”

Hunk gives him a withering look and Lance shuts up.

“Just because you’re not perfect doesn’t mean what you’re capable of isn’t amazing,” Hunk says firmly. He turns to Keith. “He could have competed outside of the Garrison but they thought it was archaic technology and didn’t like him having a bow in the dorms.” 

Lance flushes again and looks away. “Didn’t stop me from practicing,” he mumbles. 

“Is _that_ what you were always sneaking out to do?” Pidge asks, still wrist deep in some kind of wall panel. 

“Well, not every time.” Lance scratches the back of his neck. “But yeah,” he finally relents. “I stashed the bow in one of the nearby caverns before they could take it.” 

“Will you teach me?” 

All three of them turn to look at Keith who flushes under the sudden attention. 

Lance swallows. “I mean-” He fumbles for words as Keith grows defensive. 

“What?” he snaps at Pidge and Hunk. “It’s cool okay?” 

Lance blinks rapidly. “Yeah,” he manages, finally recovering. “Yeah, I’d love to.” Keith looks at him, face red but tentative. “There should be some regular bows on the ship. Yeah, I can teach you.”

Keith nods, shifting his weight. “Cool. Thanks.”

Lance bites the inside of his cheek. “Any time.”

He can practically hear Pidge roll their eyes. They’re about to say something when there’s a spark, a yelp of pain and the doors making a loud beep.

Pidge yanks themself free of the wall, shaking out their bare hand and sucking on the tips of their burnt fingers. 

“Shit. I think I just locked us in.”

“Seriously?”

“Well I don’t know, try the door,” they snap.

Lance rolls his eyes and goes over to try and get the doors to work. It makes an irritated beep but won’t open. 

“We need to get out of here before someone notices those two guards missing.” Keith’s voice tightens with worry and Lance feels his stomach clench.

“I’m open to ideas.” He looks around the room. “Cause it’s looking like there’s only one way out.” He points to the useless door.

“What about that?” Hunk points up to the vent near the top of the wall.

Lance’s head snaps towards it as Keith makes a frustrated noise. “It’s too small. We need another way.”

Lance twists his tongue sideways in his mouth, studying the vent. 

“I think I can fit through that.” 

“I don’t think even I could fit in there,” Pidge says in disbelief, expecting Lance to be kidding but he looks serious. His eyes are fixed on the vent with a thoughtful expression.

“Yeah well I’m more flexible than you are,” he says idly. He starts pulling off his armor until he’s left in his flight suit, leaving the bulkier pieces of armor behind him on the ground. 

“What are you doing?” Keith asks watching Lance hop around, trying to pull off his boot before Hunk reaches out to steady him. 

“I can’t contort in this,” Lance says. “Do you want to get out of here or not?” 

“Do we even know where it goes?” Hunk asks. 

“Armory,” Lance says before any of them can voice their thoughts.

“How do you-?”

Lance frowns at Keith like it’s obvious. “Because I have the layout memorized?”

“You have what now?” Pidge gapes at him. “ _I_ don’t even have the ships layout memorized.”

Lance makes a face. “It’s a standard battleship. All their layouts are the same. It wasn’t hard.”

Hunk’s eyebrows crawl slowly upwards. “Um, yeah dude, it is.”

Keith shakes his head. “I’m sorry, can we go back to the part where you’re a contortionist?” He looks very confused. “Since fucking when?” 

Lance snorts, finally getting off the other boot and tossing it aside. 

“Yeah,” he says like it’s obvious. “Just another of my many useless talents. Like speaking six languages, archery, and knitting. 

“Give me a boost.” He pulls off the last of the armor, putting his foot in Hunk’s cupped hands to reach the vent. 

Extending one arm in front of him and tucking his shoulder he slides into the vent much more fluidly than any of them were expecting. Hunk presses against Lance’s foot to give him the necessary leverage he needs to squirm inside. 

Pidge stares after him, looking at Hunk. 

“Did you know he could do that?” they ask, pointing after him.

Hunk shakes his head. “I knew he was flexible but I didn’t know he was _that_ flexible.” 

Keith blinks up at the vent in surprise. His mind is reeling. He takes a step closer to the wall, calling after Lance.

“Those are useless?” 

“They are if you’re my dad.” Lance's voice echoes from inside the vent as he crawls through, slipping out the other side with ease. The wall isn’t thick and he folds in half, catching his weight on his hands as he hits the floor. 

Lance bends, his back arching until his feet hit the floor and he can stand again. He cracks his neck, shaking out his arms. It’s been a long time since he last did that. 

The room is empty and he slowly sneaks his way back to the other room, fiddling with the door controls from the other side. It finally opens and Lance finds Keith staring him in the face.

“Then your dad’s a moron,” he says flatly. Lance startles, not sure what to say. “That ‘useless’ skill just saved our lives.” 

Lance flushes, shifting uncomfortably under the praise.

Keith passes him the cuisse his bayard is stored in and Lance straps it back to his thigh with an awkward thank you. 

The others help him quickly into his armor. His cheeks are still pink by the time they’re done. 

“Come on, we need to get out of here.” He pulls up his bayard, Keith falling in beside him to lead the way. They all hurry down the hall, trying to be as stealthy as possible.

“You can really speak six languages?” Keith asks softly and Lance nods. 

“I mean, technically I’m working on seven but my Galran isn’t very good yet. I can do some passable translations and pick up a word here and there but I’m by no means fluent.” 

Keith nearly stumbles in surprise. That number is staggering. “You know Galran?”

“I just said I didn’t.”

Keith shakes his head violently. “Since when?” he asks in disbelief.

Lance screws up his face in thought. “Uh, I’ve been practicing for a couple of months…”

“Months? You can pick up on words and do partial translations after only _months_?” Keith stares at him in awe.

Lance pouts, feeling affronted. “Well it’s not like it’s hard.”

Keith snorts. “Yes, it is. Lance I can barely speak one and you know _seven_.” He stares at Lance like he’s seeing him for the first time, shaking his head in wonder. 

“Why were you a pilot?” 

Lance scowls and Keith grabs his arm, drawing him to a stop. “That’s not what I meant. You’re an amazing pilot.” Lance’s hackles smooth at the sincerity in Keith’s voice.

“But language seems to come to you so naturally. You’re charismatic and good with people; you can diffuse almost any situation with words alone. Why the hell were you in the piloting program and not the diplomacy one?”

Lance frowns as they continue walking. “I was.”

“Wait, you were taking both?” Lance nods and Keith can’t help feeling like his entire world has been turned upside down. “How did you have _time?_ ” 

He shrugs, bayard shifting in his hands. “I don’t know. Like you said, language comes easy. The program wasn’t hard. I got in on a full scholarship but because it wasn’t hard I wanted something more challenging so I picked up flying. But I had to stay in the diplomacy program or lose my scholarship. 

“I’m afraid piloting didn’t come near as naturally.” His mouth pulls sideways like he doesn’t understand what an accomplishment all of that is. 

“Sometimes the ability to learn and fierce determination will get you further than natural talent,” Keith says. “It doesn’t matter how good you are if you don’t put in the work.

"Just because piloting doesn’t come to you as easily as you want, doesn’t mean you’re a bad pilot.” Keith’s smile is sideways on his mouth and frustratingly endearing. 

“And to be fair, I have a genetic advantage you don’t.”

“I didn’t-” Lance tries to argue but Keith gives him a knowing look. 

“It’s not hard to put two and two together,” Keith says softly. “And I’d say your fierce determination makes you a better pilot than me in a way. Turns out I have Galran reflexes to thank for my _natural talent._ ” He rolls his eyes and Lance feels some of the pressure in his chest ease. “And my temper,” he admits. 

They walk in silence for a moment, Lance pondering the things Keith has said to him. 

“I wish you could tell my dad that,” he says softly, grip shifting on his bayard. “He’s never been proud of me. No matter how hard I tried I never lived up to his expectations.” He makes a face, lips curling in distaste. “I was always the broken queer kid who liked ‘girly’ things,” he grits out. “I was never good enough.” He grinds his teeth, the old wound in his heart aching with memories. 

Keith touches his arm gently and Lance looks at him. He doesn’t know why they’re talking about this, why _he’s_ talking about this. 

“Then he isn’t worthy of you,” Keith says gently. “You shouldn’t have to prove yourself to someone like that.” He shakes his head. “You’re already more than enough.” His expression is tender and Lance shifts under that, not sure how to feel. “And you’re not broken.” He squeezes Lance’s arm. “None of us are.”

Lance tries to smile. It’s a conversation he’s had with himself a hundred times. 

“I know. But it still hurts. I think it always will.” He brushes his fingers over Keith’s and tries to smile. “Thanks.” 

Keith nods and withdraws his hand. “You’re welcome. I’m just sorry it had to come from me. Someone should have told you that years ago.” 


End file.
